


Captured

by purpleeyesandbowties



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Fluff and stuff, M/M, space husbands share a moment and a makeout session
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-14 01:18:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16030028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpleeyesandbowties/pseuds/purpleeyesandbowties
Summary: For once, getting captured was part of the plan.





	Captured

For once, getting captured was part of the plan. It was a nice change of pace, really. Jim would never admit it, but being captain was tiring. He had to be on guard all the time—even off-duty, he had to be ready to jump to action at the first sign of a threat, real or perceived. As weird as it was, the hand restraints, dank cement walls, and creaky metal cots felt like a nice vacation from the captain’s chair. All they had to do was stay alive for the next twelve hours while his capable crew infiltrated the Camarioan capital to get to them. See, they couldn’t expose a corrupt king unless they had a reason to be inside the palace, and rescuing their captain and first officer was as good an excuse as any. Diplomatic immunity didn’t extend to petty things like kidnapping after all, and if the Enterprise crew happened to come across incriminating evidence against the king while they were there, well, no one could fault them for bringing it back to the Federation.

“Well, Mr. Spock,” Jim sighed, settling down with his back against the wall, ignoring the rickety cots their jailers had provided. “Is this how you expected to spend your afternoon?”

“The possibility was not in the top twenty most statistically likely outcomes, but I have found over the years with you that statistically likely outcomes are statistically unlikely.”

“Oh, what a way you have with words,” Jim said with a grin. He patted the ground next to himself invitingly—as much as he could with his wrists immobilized by the wooden block they were stuck between. Primitive, yes, but much stronger than common handcuffs. At least they weren’t hanging from the walls in shackles this time. He’d take a few rogue splinters over the dead-arm feeling of hanging any day.

“Take a load off, Spock. The guard won’t be back for a few hours at least.”

Spock made a show of considering his options before primly folding his legs and sitting next to Jim on the floor. He sat much closer than he strictly needed to, pressing their shoulders together. The cell was cool, but not uncomfortably cold, and completely dry. All in all, it was the nicest jail cell they’d been stuck in, and they had an unfortunately large stock of experiences to draw from.

“Yes…” Jim said grandly. “Time. We have plenty of it. Ages. Oodles, even. We could get up to a lot in the amount of time we have, don’t you agree?”

Spock lifted a long-suffering eyebrow. “I assume from your posturing that you have a suggestion for filling our time?”

In response, Jim grinned mischievously and moved his cuffed hands over to Spock’s and brushed a tantalizing finger down his first officer’s palm. Spock’s hand twitched under his touch.

“Jim,” he warned, more exasperated than reproachful. 

“Hmm?” Jim said innocently. “Is something bothering you, Mr. Spock?”

“Someone, I should say,” Spock shot back, but his hand betrayed him by rotating, allowing Jim better access.

Jim kept his touches light and gentle for the moment. He missed Spock, but he knew better than to start something he couldn’t finish. He’d tried teasing Spock with finger brushes and mental touches on the bridge once— _once._ He hadn’t made that mistake again. He still couldn’t look the night crew in the face, and that incident had been months ago. At least that time, he’d been able to blame the aphrodisiac that was plaguing the ship. He knew he wouldn’t always be so lucky.

“Jim.” Spock’s firm tone broke through Jim’s thoughts and he pulled his hands away guiltily.

“Is this really the best time?” Spock asked. 

Jim shrugged. “It’s not ideal, I’ll admit. But all I know is that I have twelve hours duty-free, my bondmate here with me, and few to no distractions. A man wants what he wants.”

He paused for a millisecond. “Of course, only if that’s also what his husband wants.”

That soft, indulgent smile crossed Spock’s face and Jim grinned back unabashedly.

“A significant amount of time has elapsed since our last sensual encounter,” Spock admitted.

“That’s right, baby, you can logic yourself into this,” Jim murmured. He scooted closer still to Spock, absorbing some of that signature Vulcan body heat. This time when their fingers met, there was no hesitation in the touch. Jim sighed, tension releasing from his body as his mind reached out and met Spock’s. It wasn’t a full meld—not even Jim wanted to risk that anywhere they didn’t need to—but their minds were such close bedfellows that a surface meld just…happened….sometimes when they touched. Spock reacted in a similar, if quieter, way. His head tilted down to rest against the crown of Jim’s head.

Jim let Spock take the lead with their hands and redirected his attention to Spock’s neck. He kissed the edge of his clavicle, intending to slowly work his way up to Spock’s lips. He broke his own pattern soon after, unable to resist the call of his husband’s mouth. Human kissing was good; Vulcan kissing was good. Both at the same time was something else entirely.Jim closed his eyes and let himself get lost in the sensations—the cold concrete against his back contrasting with the soft warmth of Spock’s body, and the feel of their minds brushing, touching, tangling together along with their fingers. Spock’s lips, dry and soft, with just the right hint of sweetness. Jim knew that when they eventually pulled apart, his husband’s lipstick would be smeared all over his face. 

_I will wipe it away since your hands are currently occupied._

Jim smiled against Spock’s mouth, temporarily breaking their contact. The thought had slipped into his mind clearly, but unobtrusively. It was like having Spock whisper directly into his ear, but also much, much better. A reminder that no matter what crazy thing happened next in his life, his one constant would always be his connection to Spock. His voice—his presence, his goddamn _katra—_ was a part of Jim’s life now. A constant more reliable than gravity.

_No, it’s okay. I like having proof you were here_ , Jim thought back, and felt Spock’s slightly abashed amusement.

_Such a human sentiment,_ Spock teased. Jim answered verbally, wanting Spock to hear how low his voice was.

“Oh, I think you like it well enough. You married me, after all.”

“I did. Sometimes I wonder if it was a foolish decision.” _But now is not one of those times,_ his mind supplied. Jim drank up those unspoken words like they were water at the edge of the desert.

_Jim, if you wish to hear more affirmations of my feelings for you, you need only ask._

_It’s not your way,_ Jim argued. _Besides, only hearing it every once in a while makes it more special, you know?_

_I do not,_ Spock confessed. _Your more frequent verbal assertions hold the same impact on me, no matter the number of times they are repeated._

“Oh, I do love you,” Jim sighed. 

_As I love you,_ Spock returned. 

Jim reached up to card his fingers through Spock’s hair but was stopped by the solid _clunk_ of wood against skull.

“Sorry, baby,” he said hurriedly. Spock observed the wooden restraint thoughtfully. Then, without another word, he brought his bound hands down sharply against his hipbones, shattering the wood like it was made of glass. He shook free his hands and freed Jim’s with a few more quick strikes, taking care not to hurt Jim’s wrists.

“Better, thank you,” Jim said, answering Spock’s question before he could ask it.

“Good. I am pleased,” Spock said, taking Jim hand in is own.

“Pleased? Why, yes, Mr. Spock, I think you’re about to be,” Jim answered cheekily, wasting no time in getting his hands on his husband. “After all we have twelve whole hours to ourselves.”

“Ten hours and fifty-eight minutes,” Spock corrected. “The rescue party will— _ah_ —will likely be early.”

“Oh, well, in that case, we had better hurry. Don’t want to run out of time.”

“The two of us,” Spock said with a certainty that Jim knew was hard-won, “will never be out of time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, i'm sidras-tak on tumblr, and nearly all my fics are fluffy and dumb like this one


End file.
